


thranduil's test

by chevaliermalfet



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Gen, Series of ficlets, as part of the father tests son-in-law's ~skills~, then it turned into whatever this is, well it started off as crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28363350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevaliermalfet/pseuds/chevaliermalfet
Summary: allegedly this is just "maglor shows up to make sure thranduil is a ~capable~ husband for elrond"
Kudos: 5





	thranduil's test

Elrond had his suspicions before Arwen had even mentioned anything was wrong. By the time she talked to him and explained her symptoms, Elrond already knew. He had seen this in generations of humans, especially in his brother’s descendants.

“Arwen,” he said, a somber expression on his face. He took a deep breath as she turned her head to look at him. “You are with child.” She blinked in surprise, and the corners of her mouth began to twitch upward. Elrond couldn’t contain his smile and let it break across his face.

“Ada…” she said, her smile expanding to match his. She tapped a quick kiss on his cheek and turned towards the door. “I must go tell Aragorn.”

As he watched his daughter leave, Elrond tried to remember the last time he had been this happy. It must have been when she was born.

* * *

Hours later, Elrond was still overjoyed. He had realized he had yet to see Aragorn to congratulate him. A quick stop near Arwen and Aragorn’s chambers, however, had revealed that they were…celebrating, quite loudly in fact, and would not appreciate an interruption.

In the library, Elrond searched for any material vaguely related to human or elf pregnancies. He had collected a stack of a dozen-odd books on a desk when Lindir walked in.

“My lord, there is a…strange elf at the gate, asking to speak with you.”

Elrond abandoned his literature search, walking briskly with Lindir to the front gate. He grabbed a sword, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it. Even if the stranger was a threat, the guards of Imladris were more than capable of stopping him.

The cloaked figure was standing silently, his hood concealing his face. As Elrond approached, the unknown elf slowly put down his hood, revealing long black hair.

Recognition, then confusion, then anger flashed across Elrond’s face. His sword was unsheathed and pointed at the stranger’s throat before he finished lowering his hood. The stranger didn’t flinch.

“Maglor?” The name escaped Elrond’s lips in disbelief. He was unsure how to react. Was this a trick? Surely Maglor had died. This had to be an imposter, an evil trick by some dark forces. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Little star, it is me.” Maglor’s melodic voice brought a sudden calmness to Elrond, who allowed his sword to lower slightly. His gray eyes were soft, adoring, and familiar.

Elrond fought the calmness, raising the sword again and allowing the cool blade to kiss the skin under Maglor’s jaw. He hoped no one could see the tears beginning to well in his eyes at the thought that his adoptive father could still be alive. “Prove it.”

Maglor began to sing sweetly. Elrond instantly recognized the song; it was a lullaby Maglor would sing to the twins when they had nightmares. The tears escaped Elrond’s eyes, leaving trails down his face. At the last note, Elrond sheathed his sword and threw himself at Maglor.

Maglor wrapped his arms around Elrond, a comfort he had not felt in millennia. “Little star, little star, I am here now,” he whispered. “I am so sorry for leaving you. I love you.”

After a long embrace, Elrond pulled away to look at his father again. The whites of Maglor’s eyes were watery and tinged with red. Maglor wiped around Elrond’s eyes, drying his tears, while whispering comforts.

“Why—why are you here now?” Elrond tried to keep his voice steady, but he knew he sounded like the scared six-year-old he had been when Maglor adopted him.

“Because, little star, I heard word that you are betrothed to King Thranduil.” A small smile. “I am here to complete the tradition and ensure he will be a suitable husband for you.”

* * *

Maglor and Thranduil entered the study where Elrond had immersed himself in his research. Elrond slid a bookmark into his book, _What Thou Shalt Expect Whilst Thou Art Expecting,_ and looked between the two.

Maglor gave a small grin and simply said, “Excellent choice.” Thranduil smirked in response. Elrond shook his head in mock disapproval and planted a quick kiss on Thranduil’s cocky face.

* * *

It was to be an untraditional union in many ways, but as most elves had already sailed for Valinor, no one was left who gave a shit. Elrond and Thranduil were both still in love with their wives, so the marriage was more for the comradery and physical companionship than romance. They planned to eventually sail west together to reunite with their wives.

The wedding attendees were quite diverse for an elvish wedding. The Fellowship had been invited, of course, bringing a mixed bad of hobbits, dwarves, and men, in addition to the expected elves. Many of the guests stayed in Imladris for the weeks surrounding the wedding, reuniting with old friends they hadn’t seen in years.

A few days before the wedding, Elrond was giving Arwen a check-up. She wanted to be exasperated at her father, whose checkups had increased in frequency since her pregnancy, but she was secretly grateful. Since becoming mortal, she had undergone physiological changes and was still trying to adjust to them.

A gentle knock tapped on the door. “Come in,” Elrond said, and a female hobbit stepped into the room. _Ah_ , Elrond realized, _this must be Rosie Gamgee._ She had come with her husband, Sam, and Sam’s husband, Frodo. He could tell from the small bump on her stomach that she, too, was pregnant.

“Lord Elrond, Sam sent me. Mist—I mean, Frodo—is hurt. He said it was an old injury from the quest.”

Elrond knew that was bad. He had done his best to heal the wounds from the Morgul blade and Shelob’s stab, but there was only so much he could do against the evils of Sauron and Ungoliant. He turned back towards Arwen, but before he could begin a sentence, she said, “Go. I’m perfectly fine.”

Rosie and Elrond went towards Frodo’s chambers, Elrond wanting to walk quickly but consciously shortening his steps to keep pace with the hobbit. Frodo was lying in bed, writhing in agony as usual. Sam sat beside him, holding his hand in one hand and wiping his forehead with a cool cloth in the other.

Frodo looked _bad_. Elrond could tell he did not have much life left in him. Elrond did what he could to help soothe Frodo’s pain, but was unable to do any more to heal the wounds. He gave Sam and Rosie instructions on how to calm the pain before excusing himself from the chamber.

In his study, Elrond called a telepathic video conference. He knew that Gandalf and Galadriel would be in Imladris in time for the wedding, but the issue needed to be addressed at once. Gandalf answered immediately, but all he heard on Galadriel’s line was the Mii channel song.

da doo doo doo

do do do

da doo doo doo

Elrond realized he must have mistakenly connected to Celeborn’s mind, hung up, and tried to reach Galadriel again. He succeeded this time.

“Mithrandir, Lady Galadriel, Frodo Baggins is quite unwell. I fear he will not last much longer. I believe that our only option is to sail soon. A month from now, at the very latest.”

“If you believe that is the best option, Lord Elrond, we should begin preparations for the last voyage immediately,” Gandalf said.

“But, Elrond, Arwen…” Galadriel did not need to finish the sentence for Elrond to understand, for the same thought had crossed his mind. Arwen’s child was not due for another two months.

“I know, my lady, but I believe Frodo will not survive that long.”

* * *

A month later, a crowd had gathered at Mithlond to farewell the final group of elves sailing to Valinor. As the hobbits said their goodbyes to Frodo and Bilbo, and Legolas to Thranduil, Elrond looked upon his daughter, trying to memorize every detail. He spoke briefly, words unable to convey his love for her.

Elrond stepped aside, giving Galadriel and Celeborn space to speak with their granddaughter. To Aragorn, he simply said, “Thank you, Estel.”

As Elrond was about to board the boat, he realized Maglor was unmoving, staying with the crowd. He stepped away from the boat and towards his adoptive father.

“Are you not coming?” It had been mere months since Maglor’s reappearance, but Elrond had quickly become used to the comforting figure. He hadn’t discussed it with Maglor, but Elrond had assumed his father was sailing west with them.

“No, my son. I have done much evil in my life, and I would not sully the sacredness with my presence. I will stay behind and watch over your descendants, just as you have watched over your brother’s.”

“Maglor…” Elrond choked on the name. He had lost so many of his loved ones already, was about to lose Arwen, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing Maglor again.

Maglor smiled sadly. “Go, little star. You have earned your reward in Valinor.” Maglor wrapped his arms around Elrond for the last time. When he finally let go, he gave Elrond a small push towards the boat, encouraging the elf to board.

As the ship was loosed from the dock, Elrond looked back at his family for the last time, and watched until they had faded in the distance.


End file.
